


Sharp-Dressed Sentinel

by SullenDragon



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Crack, Fanart, GIMP (GNU Image Manipulation Program), Gen, but that's fine, fashionista!Jim, probably, this idea probably is not as original as I thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullenDragon/pseuds/SullenDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finally figures out that his closet doesn't actually have a mind of its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He doesn’t realize what’s going on until Sandburg.

Granted, he didn’t realize a lot of things pre-Sandburg, but one might assume that one would _notice_ if one’s sartorial preferences started changing drastically.

Jim didn’t notice. Jim just went to work, chased criminals, and ignored it when _weed out closet_ became one of the things on his mental to-do list.

The shirts went first. The ragged edges made his shoulder itch (or so he told himself), and it would make Banks happy if he ditched some of them. He told himself he would make some new ones, out of less scratchy shirts, like a fresh start. (He doesn’t make new ones. He looks up) He looks up six weeks later to realize that he’s been wearing shirts with actual sleeves for about a month and that they do not, in fact, make him feel like he can’t breathe anymore.

When he shaves the moustache.... About a month after the shirt-purge, it’s a decconscious decision. It just wasn’t befitting an officer of the law (or however the hell they’re putting it this week) to sport an entire badger under his nose. Plus, he could never smell anything but moustache wax. He spends about a week afterward being startled by his own naked face in the mirror.

When Sandburg waltzes into his life, he cures Jim’s old headaches and brings new headaches with him, but Jim isn’t completely ungrateful. Within a week, he’s back to feeling pretty damn happy with things, and he’s starting to think like a Sandburg, as far as noticing things about his senses. Blair points out things that Jim can see when no one else can, or he asks how far away Jim can smell the hot dog place and is always considering possibilities, always trying to make things better. 

He’s always thinking about Jim’s senses, and Jim has become more conscious of using them because of that. He can tell how much fuel the truck has just by the engine’s echo, that he knows the fat percentage in ground meat just by the smell, and he discovers that he minds a _lot_ when his clothes don’t match. One pair of slacks has a bit of a green tint to them (and what the heck, he’s never bought green pants, he didn’t even know khakis could have any greenish... things). Well, the point is, his pants are speaking to him of subtle undertones, and he’s never thought this much about what he wears before. Until his wardrobe shift, he hadn’t worn slacks since before he’d joined the army. He certainly hadn’t cared what they looked like then, but he’s pretty sure that he has never before considered any of his clothing’s _undertones_ before.

“Change shirts,” he says to Sandburg one morning. They’re both headed for the station, because Sandburg doesn’t have any classes today. Sandburg’s got on some godawful orange-and-brown plaid shirt with jeans that are almost greenish. Teal. And the shirt rustles, like Sandburg’s wearing a dead shrubbery on his torso.

Blair glances down, and then looks back up at Jim like he thinks Jim’s completely lost it.

“We’re late already, man,” Blair says and Jim huffs out a sigh and waits. “No, seriously, Jim, my shirt is fine. Orange is a great color!”

He was going to lead with the noise thing -- is that shirt made of cellophane, or what? -- but when he opens his mouth, he says, “Not with those pants, it’s not,” and his jaw clicks shut.

Blair doesn’t say anything, just sets his backpack down on the floor by the door and heads back to his room. He emerges, a scant few seconds later, wearing a blue shirt that makes him look rather like a cereal box. Jim glares into the middle distance and hides his wince. It’s better than the orange, but only if one ignores the possibility of jeans that would have matched the orange shirt.

“Fine. Pray tell me what shirt to wear, oh benevolent god of fashion!”

Jim almost laughs at that, but manages to cover it with a rather violent cough. Probably.

“White. Button-up. Middle shelf, on the left.”

Blair eyeballs him a little, but he goes to find the shirt.

It looks just as good as Jim had predicted, of course, almost makes its wearer look like an actual professional, but Sandburg was right about their being late, so Jim doesn’t have to fabricate any explanations for his impromptu style advice.

Sandburg, as usual, doesn’t need any explanations, fabricated or otherwise.

“So,” he says as he slams to truck’s passenger door too hard, “fashion sense, huh?”

Jim revs the engine and tells himself he’s not ignoring a number of traffic laws.

“I’m fashionable now, then? The ladies will fall at my feet?”

“Shut up before I take you back to your closet, Sandburg. Your shoelaces clash with my shirt.”


	2. to simon banks, thanks for everything! james ellison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been sitting around awhile and I finally managed to convince myself it wasn't going to get any better.

I am so sorry about this. I do, however, think that Ms Vida would approve.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone's done this before, I'm sure, and if they haven't... well, I hereby invite anyone and everyone to take this idea and run with it, because I feel like I have not done it justice. Final papers are eating up my spare time like popcorn.  
> Also, I've got a photo-manip-thing I'm working on to go with this. It's only tangentially related, but the image struck me. GIMP is giving me trouble, though, so when I finally get it done, it'll be as a separate chapter, so it doesn't hold this part up. :)  
> I can't seem to name anything without replacing "man" with "Sentinel" today.


End file.
